Worldly passions inseparable from satori.
Go a thousand miles not moving a foot!
One blind man leads many blind men Into the fire hole hand in hand.
Watch your own steps!
Where no Buddha, the Buddha works.
Killing or vivifying is in these hands.
Spring comes: grass grows.
No ugliness in a loved child.
Ordinary mind is the Way.
Seek satori within yourself! Where else?
Fire is hot; water, cold.
When cold say cold; When hot say hot.
Not flattered by praise, not hurt by blame.
Heaven, earth, and I: the same root. Everything and I: one thing.
Seeking words, chasing phrases: When do you have time for satori?
Much understand, much problem. Little understand, little problem. Complete DON'T KNOW, no problem.
Spring opens a hundred flowers — for whom?
What is the color of the wind? Where does the rain come from?
Walking is Zen; sitting, too.
It rains: the earth wet.
From outside the shoes, to scratch where you itch.
The man who's drunk water Knows if it's cool or warm.
A hungry dog bites a dry bone.
Ten thousand laws end in One : Don't stick to that, either!
Once you preach, the point is gone.
Angry waves: not so dangerous as man's mind.
Reach for it, and you'll miss; let it loose, and it'll follow.
All things that exist are like a dream, a phantom, a bubble, a reflection; they are like dew or lightning; thus should you view them.
Pictured rice cakes dissolve hunger?
No good thought, no evil thought.
However priceless, a piece of gold In the eye is nothing but grit.
Open your mouth— instantly wrong; Move your tongue— against the truth.
From the origins nothing exists.
With the slightest yes and no, Mind is lost in confusion.
Coming back with satori but everything just as before: Hermit Mountain's drizzle and mist, Crooked River's waves . . .
Teaching beyond teaching; No leaning on words and letters.
Never comparable to anything: How can I preach it?
The Billion Worlds, a bubble on the sea; All Buddhas and Patriarchs, a flash of lightning.
Rich food doesn't tempt the man who has eaten.
A smiling face offers mercy; A troubled mind contains vicious poison.
To call heaven earth makes it earth? To name earth heaven makes it heaven?
Meeting Sakyamuni, kill him! Meeting Bodhidharma, kill him, too!
One snowflake falling on a burning furnace.
Produce Mind Without attachment to anything.
Need fire? Best strike a flint. Water? Dig a well.
Cast away Dharma, Not to mention non-Dharma.
Everything is true just as it is: Why dislike it? Why hate?
Day after day a very good day: Winds come and trees bow.
He dies, I die - Where can we meet?
Sitting motionless, nothing happening — Spring coming, grass growing.